


Getting Better

by redmacallan



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, probably made non-canon by an inside man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmacallan/pseuds/redmacallan
Summary: "It'll get better," Zeb says, and in that second where he's actually saying the words, Kallus feels as if they must be true, but as soon as the phrase ends, he's back to feeling cold and hopeless and quite enjoying Zeb's hand there actually-
Or, Zeb is kind but kinda clueless and Kallus is not dealing well with anything ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was half written for a prompt on tumblr and half written because I was bored in class. In both cases, it ran away with me.  
> Also, this was written and posted before An Inside Man, so it'll probably be completely ooc by the end of the day. Oh well.

When they first bring him in, he won't even look at Zeb.

He gave himself up before even starting the fight, and he walks out of the rebellion's ship, handcuffed and with his head hung low.

Zeb doesn't see him for a while after that, though Kallus's name is mentioned- he's refusing to give up information, apparently, too shaken to speak most of the time. Zeb worries, of course- that sounds so unlike the Kallus he knew that he's wondering if they're the same person- but it's never a lingering worry, and he's kept busy away from Kallus for a while.

On the third day, though, he gets assigned night guard duty while the rest of the  _ Ghost _ crew is off-world. He doesn't complain too much- it's a simpler job than most, since any prisoners are largely asleep.

He checks in and gets handed a holopad with which prisoner is in which cell, when his patrol switchover is, and so on. The guard before him motions to the caf machine with a "There's caf if you want it. Good luck," before leaving the room.

He scans over the list for a few moments. There's only one cell full, surprisingly- Kallus's- but thinking about it, he figures they probably don't often get prisoners. People tend to either want to join them or attack them- giving themselves up halfway through a battle is basically unheard of.

Everything is eerily quiet. He's pretty sure Kallus- or anyone else, for that matter- isn't awake.

He gets himself a cup of caf and sits down to waste the night away.

He's not sure how long he spends just staring at the corridor, but at some point, he's jolted out of his trance by a muffled shout.

Zeb stands up, going towards the sound. He doesn't bother checking outside- he'd know that voice anywhere.

It's him.

He reaches the cell and knocks sharply. There's no response, but he can hear Kallus breathing heavily inside, like he's been crying.

He unlocks the door.

Kallus is there, lying in bed, stiff, shivering with what looks like fear, and staring, glassy-eyed, at the ceiling, like he's looking straight through it. His hands are fisted in the sheets, and Zeb can hear his breaths more clearly now, the dim light of the corridor outside reflecting the wet patches around his eyes.

"Kallus?" he asks, shutting the door and moving closer to Kallus's bed.

He doesn't reply, only clutching at the thin sheets more tightly, a long, wavering, breath escaping through his lips.

"Kallus," he repeats, now only a step away from the bed. Still no reply.

Zeb nudges him as softly as he can, and Kallus starts moving semi-normally again, his breath coming out in ragged pants. He sits up sharply, and though the light's not good enough to tell for certain, he's fairly sure Kallus has started crying again.

Zeb nudges him in the shoulder again, a little harder this time. " _ Kallus. _ "

Kallus finally turns his head to look at him, tired, red-rimmed eyes squinting to see in the half-light. "Z-Zeb?" His voice comes out all scratchy and weak, and though it's still as low as Zeb remembers, there's not a hint of Imperial Agent in his tone. If he didn't know better, Zeb could have sworn this was just another resistance fighter waking up from a nightmare.

At least, assuming that's what's happened.

Zeb nods. "Yeah, it's me."

Kallus looks down at his sheets, silent apart from the sounds of his breathing. His eyes have tired bags under them.

"Are you alright?" Zeb tries, again.

"Yes," says Kallus, too quickly, "yes, I'm fine."

Zeb frowns and crosses his arms. "You don't sound fine."

"I'll get over it," Kallus mutters. "It was- it was just a nightmare. You go back to... whatever it is you're doing."

"Guard duty," says Zeb. He doesn't want to go, but there's not much else he can think of to do.

"Right." Kallus sighs and lies back down. "That."

Zeb frowns, but nods. He turns out of the room, making sure the door is locked behind him and sitting back down in his chair.

Kallus is silent until he leaves.

He tells Hera about it. They're in hyperspace, going along a long trade route to pick up some supplies, and though it's relatively safe, it takes  _ ages _ . Ezra's in their cabin, tinkering around with his saber and talking on his comm to someone back at the base, Kanan is presumably meditating, Sabine is playing around with explosives, and Chopper's not exactly brilliant conversation, so, Hera it is.

She's in the pilot's chair- of course- eyes glancing alternately out of the window and over the controls, making sure nothing breaks.

"Hi," she says, hearing him walk in. She turns to smile at him. "Haven't spoken to you properly in a while."

"Yeah, well..." Zeb laughs sheepishly.

Hera quirks an eyebrow and turns back to the controls. "You've been busy, I know. So have we. What were you doing last?"

"Guard duty. Night shift."

Hera's eyebrow is still raised, but she turns back to look at him. "With Kallus? How was it?"

Zeb shrugs. "I don't know. He didn't seem... like himself, I guess."

Hera frowns. "You spoke to him? I thought this was the night shift."

"It was. He woke up in the middle of it." He stares pointedly out of the window. "Nightmare, he said, but-"

He stops himself, but Hera's not having it. "But what?"

"I don't know, it's just-" Zeb runs a hand over his head. "He woke up  _ screaming _ , Hera. And when I went in, he just- wouldn't reply. For ages. He had these huge bags under his eyes, and he could barely talk, and-" he stops himself, again. "I'm worried about him."

Hera nods seriously. "I'll ask around to see how we can help." She pats his shoulder. "Thanks for telling me."

The mission goes off without too much of a hitch, by their standards, and soon they're back at the base. Zeb's in his cabin- Ezra's found something to do elsewhere, this time- when Kanan walks in, popping his head round the door. He might be blind, but he knows the Ghost like the back of his hand, so he doesn't need anyone to guide him around it.

"Hey, buddy," he says, a sly grin on his face. "You're on guard duty again tonight. Have fun. Oh, and," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet, "these are for Kallus. Hera told me to give them to you." He tosses it over.

Zeb catches it easily. "What are they?"

Kanan shrugs, a smirk on his face. "You think  _ I _ can read them? There's probably a label on there somewhere."

Zeb turns it over and examines it more closely. There's a long chemical name he can't understand, followed by the words  _ sleeping pills _ and  _ take only one a night _ .

"Thanks," he says, putting the pills into his pocket.

"No problem," Kanan replies. He gives a little salute before jaunting away, presumably out of the  _ Ghost _ .

Zeb spends the rest of the day napping in preparation for the sleep he'll inevitably lose that evening.

Evening arrives, and Zeb makes his way to the cell block, still unoccupied by anyone other than Kallus. Once again, the previous guard hands him the keys, wishes him good luck, and leaves.

Almost as soon as he's gone, Zeb knocks on the door to Kallus's cell, waits a few moments, then unlocks the door and goes in.

Kallus is there, seated at the desk, head craned round to see who's come in. 

"Zeb?" he asks, brow furrowed. His voice is still scratchy and weaker than usual, but he sounds better than he did the last time Zeb spoke to him.

"Yup," Zeb replies. He fishes the pills out of his pocket. "I brought you these." He holds them out to Kallus, who stands, turns, and takes them from him.

Kallus turns them over, squinting at the writing on the back. He sighs. "Oh."

"What?"

"These..." he pauses, trying to choose his words. "They don't work. For the... waking up. That you saw."

"Oh," says Zeb, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry. I guess they can't hurt, though."

"Hm." Kallus puts them on the desk. "Thank you, anyway."

Zeb nods. "No problem. Night."

Kallus almost opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, but then bites his lip. "Goodnight," he says, curtly.

The clank of the cell door is the last bit of noise before a long stretch of almost-silence, punctuated only by the soft ruffle of sheets as Kallus gets into bed, and then for a few hours, it is truly silent.

That doesn't last, of course. He wakes up again, his cry slightly quieter this time. Zeb only knocks as a courtesy, really- he knows he's going in, no matter what.

Kallus is once again in the stiff, shaky position, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

Zeb shakes his shoulder. "Hey. Wake up."

He does so with a gasp, more afraid than Zeb is comfortable with it being. He looks up at Zeb, surprised at first, but soon his expression turns to shame. "Ah. I- I apologi-"

"Don't." Zeb flicks on the light. "What's wrong?"

"It's really-"

Zeb frowns. "I'm not going anywhere."

Kallus pushes himself into a sitting position and grimaces. He stares up at him defiantly, then looks back down at the bed. He's silent for a while, but Zeb refuses to move.

He finally speaks. "I don't want to talk about it."

Zeb huffs and goes to sit down on the bed. Kallus holds up a hand to stop him, not quite in time. "Don't-"

Too late- Zeb sits on something lumpy under the sheets. "What?"

Kallus snatches it from underneath him. "It's nothing."

Zeb lifts up the end of the sheet, peering underneath, and Kallus yelps, scrambling to hide his mostly-bare legs under the blankets and failing to hide what he was holding in the process. 

It's unmistakable- no man-made light glows like that, and it's not as if Zeb could forget the rock that basically saved both of their lives. It doesn't stop him being surprised that it's here.

"You kept that thing?"

Kallus scowls. "Empirical ships aren't exactly toasty," he says, but the bitter, clipped edge to his words means Zeb knows that's not the whole story.

He just huffs and sits back down on the bed. Kallus pulls the sheets back over himself, meteorite lying somewhere next to him.

They're silent for longer than either one is comfortable with. Kallus speaks first.

"So, are you just sitting there? I'm  _ fine _ , you don't have to be here."

"Waking up crying usually doesn't mean you're fine," replies Zeb, terser than he means it to. He can't help remembering those nights years ago where he did the same, would wake up cold and alone, and would wait until he could hear someone else awake on the Ghost before even considering moving.

He tries not to think about it.

"I wasn't crying, and even if I had been, I'm not now." Kallus rolls over so he's facing the wall, head half-burrowed into his pillow. He mutters something Zeb can't hear.

"What?"

"I  _ said _ , it's not as if it even matters, anyway. I'm being kept alive here until I reveal an Imperial secret- of which I don't know any, for your information, since they were hiding files from me before I left- and once I do, I'll either be killed or sent on some suicide mission. Whether or not I'm sleeping properly is no-one's problem but my own, and I'm telling you I'm  _ fine _ ."

Zeb scoffs. "You really think that?"

Kallus turns around to glare at him. " _ You _ think your rebellion  _ won't _ kill me as soon as I'm no longer useful? As much as your little crew relies on  _ sentiment _ -" he spits out the word like it's a curse- "the wider rebellion isn't quite so stupid. I'm alive because they still think I know something they don't. That's all."

"We're not going to kill you," Zeb insists.

"I would, in your position," Kallus says. "I killed these people's families, friends, everyone. Just because I haven't murdered anyone in the last month, doesn't mean it never happened." He turns away again, and his voice gets slightly absorbed by the pillow. "You, worst of all. I don't know how you can stand to look at me."

Zeb growls. "I told you, Lasan is  _ over _ -"

Kallus snaps upright, looking him straight in the eye. "But it isn't really, is it? It's never over. None of it. Doesn't matter if it's Lasan or Geonosis or Lothal or Onderon-"

"Onderon?"

Kallus curses.

The gears in Zeb's head finally click into place. "That's what the nightmares-"

"Shut up," spits Kallus. He turns away and lies down. "I shouldn't have- forget I said anything." He sighs, less angry and more tired. " _ Please. _ "

Zeb doesn't speak, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wants to say. His thoughts are coming out in Lasat, and he needs to translate them before he can say them.

"I wasn't always on the Ghost," he tries, finally.

Kallus is silent, but Zeb can almost feel him glaring into the pillows.

"When- after Lasan, I had to get away. You know, to avoid..." he trails off. "Either way, I got away, somehow. Ended up in the Outer Rim somewhere, just wasting my time away, staying low, not really-"  _ caring if I lived or died _ , he thinks- "doing much."

Kallus huffs. Zeb chooses to ignore him.

"I didn't sleep much, then, but after a while Kanan and Hera picked me up, and I was lonely and I could bash through Imps faster than they could, so they kept me around." He takes a deep breath. "That's when Lasan kept- coming back."

Kallus shifts, almost imperceptibly, but Zeb can tell he's listening.

"I'd wake up, sometimes. It was like coming round after everything had gone, except I wasn't really there, and it would last for days. Either that, or someone would say something, or we'd pick up some cargo, and I'd just-" He grimaces down at the floor. "It would be Lasan all over again."

He's not sure what else to add. For once that evening, Kallus does something helpful. "...Still?"

"Hm?"

"Does it- does it still happen?"

Zeb shakes his head. "No. Nothing like that. It got better. It  _ is _ better. 'Specially now," he adds, "since we found Lira San."

"Found what?"

"Lira San," he repeats. "It's where my people originally came from."

"And you've- been there?"

Zeb leans backwards, lying against the wall. "For a bit, yeah."

Kallus shuffles around beside him, and the glow of the rock is suddenly more intense on his face, like he's brought it up to hold it. "Tell me about it."

So Zeb does. There's a lot to say, and plenty he's willing to remember. The landscapes he remembers- half from running around them as a child and half from pictures and stories- staring up into the sky of a planet that feels like home, the fact that there are  _ other Lasat _ there, a miracle considering he thought he was alone in the universe up until a few months ago-

It's the early hours of the morning before he realises Kallus has fallen asleep, meteorite clutched to his chest and face more peaceful than he's ever seen it on this base.

He leaves, closing the door as quietly as he can.

It's late evening the next day when he gets the news. Kallus still claims not to have any useful information (and, considering how he said it the night before, Zeb's inclined to believe him) but he's betting Imperial protocol hasn't changed, so he's offered to go on a strike mission- small ones, at first, until they can trust him- and give advice on how the Empire will act next.

Ezra grins at him when he relays the news. "You must've done  _ something _ right last night."

Zeb just glares at him and tries to get some sleep.

The mission Kallus is assigned to is a success, and as a result, he's moved out of his cell and into a nicer cabin, albeit one that can be locked from the outside. Zeb doesn't see him around, though whether that's because one or both of them are off-world or if it's because Kallus rarely leaves his room, he doesn't know.

Kanan comes into Zeb's cabin again, one day. He's got another grin on his face, and Zeb gets a sudden sense of deja vu.

"Hey," he begins. "Hera gave me some more pills for Kallus again, though I think they're different ones." He tosses them over, and Zeb catches them. 

"For Kallus?" he asks, and Kanan nods. "Why didn't you just give them to him?"

Kanan laughs. "I had a feeling he wanted you to deliver them. Call it Jedi intuition." He waves and heads away again, and Zeb's left holding another packet of sleeping pills- they  _ are _ different ones, Kanan was right about that- and feeling confused.

He's not one to disobey orders, semi-direct though they may be, though, so he soon heads out to the block he's heard Kallus is now located in. There's someone around more than happy to tell him exactly where he is, and they let him in, leaving the door unlocked but showing him the lock code for when he leaves.

Kallus turns to greet him. "Zeb."

"Hey." Zeb hands the packet over. "They got you some new ones."

"Oh." Kallus turns them over, inspecting them. "Thank you." He places them down on a shelf, next to the meteorite. There's a slightly awkward silence.

"How did your mission go?" Zeb asks.

Kallus sighs. "As well as can be expected." They fall quiet again.

"Sleeping better?"

Kallus winces, but only slightly. "Somewhat, yes."

Zeb smirks. "That usually means not at all."

Kallus sighs and goes to sit down on the bed. "You haven't decided to kill me yet and I'm doing some good for the rebellion. That's enough for now."

Zeb joins him, the bed creasing slightly under his weight. "So, Onderon?"

"Yes." Kallus looks down at the floor. "I had... something like this, just after it happened, but nothing as bad as these... things." He looks like he wants to say nightmare, but he's can't quite bring himself to.

Zeb's not sure what to say. He puts a hand on Kallus's shoulder. "It'll get better."

Kallus nods. Zeb thinks he leans in slightly, but he's not sure. "Thank you." He coughs, awkwardly. "Can you- are you staying again? Tonight?"

Zeb frowns, confused, and even as his brain tells him all the reasons what would be a terrible idea, he can't bring himself to say no. Not with Kallus looking scared and confused on the edge of his bed, the same look in his eyes Zeb remembers seeing years ago.

"Sure," he says.

He tells Kallus about Lira San again, all the bits he didn't hear because he was asleep, and at some point he mentions Honor Guard training, and Kallus asks him about that as well. Halfway through some anecdote about a weapon malfunctioning, or something, Kallus laughs and says the same thing happened to him at the Imperial Academy, and so he tells Zeb about that. What was a story about the Academy ends up turning into Kallus talking about Coruscant when he was growing up, and how he wishes he'd spent more time there.

"I can't go back now," he says. "It's likely all different, anyway. I doubt my parents would be glad to see me, either."

"Can't?"

Kallus laughs again, more bitterly this time. "I'm a wanted man. I'd probably die under the same skies I trained under." He snorts. "Wouldn't that be poetic?"

"Once this war's over, you can go back," Zeb points out.

" _ If _ you win."

"Still think we won't?"

"I still  _ know _ you're smaller than the Empire, and if anywhere is going to rebel, it won't be Coruscant." He sighs and leans back. "Still, can't stop me from wishing it wasn't that way."

The two of them are quiet for a while, neither one sure what to say.

Kallus finally speaks again. "When all this is over, we'll go back to Coruscant."

Zeb quirks an eyebrow. "We?"

Kallus nods. "We'll go together. I'll show you that park I told you about. We'll get game fowl. Have you had it before?" Zeb shakes his head no. Kallus hastens to reply. "My mother used to make it when I was very small. They just gave us rations at the Academy, so I haven't had it for years." He nods, as if confirming what he's said to himself. "It's nice."

Zeb leans back on the bed with him. "Okay." Kallus looks questioningly at him, so he adds, "I'll go with you. To Coruscant."

Kallus beams at him, and Zeb suddenly wants to make sure that smile never leaves his face, not sure if he can bear seeing the dejected, hopeless Kallus again after this one. Kallus blinks, sleepily.

"Tired?"

"More than I should be."

Zeb pats his shoulder. "Get some sleep."

Kallus takes it literally, apparently, closing his eyes there and then. Zeb snorts and moves to get up.

"Are you going?" Kallus says, not opening his eyes.

Zeb smirks, though he knows Kallus can't tell. "Do you want me to?"

Kallus opens one eye and looks at him dopily. "Not especially."

"Then no, I'm not." Zeb stands up and grabs the blanket from under Kallus. "Budge up."

Kallus shifts to the side. Zeb sits beside him and drapes the blanket over the both of them, bending his legs at an awkward angle so they don't hang off the bed. Kallus sighs and moves in closer, resting his head on Zeb's shoulder, his legs bent, too.

By all logic, it shouldn't be comfortable- his legs certainly aren't going to appreciate being stuck like this all night, and the wall's not exactly the most comfortable thing to rest his head on- but there's something comforting about lying next to someone that he finds he's missed, if he ever really had it at all. Soon, Kallus' more even, gentle breathing eases him into sleep, and he forgets that he probably shouldn't leave the door unlocked while he's sleeping.

They both dream of planets they've never seen, each walking through them accompanied by the other.

Zeb wakes first, the noises in this part of the base different to the ones he's used to. Kallus has slipped onto his chest at some point during the night, his loose-fitting clothes slipping off of his shoulders.

He's got freckles.

Zeb can hear someone walking down the corridor outside, and he's reminded that he probably shouldn't be here. He untangles himself from the blankets, puts a pillow behind Kallus' head, resists the urge to kiss his forehead (where did  _ that _ come from?) and leaves the room, locking the door behind him.

Zeb's given no time to dwell on the night before- there's another recon mission to go on, but it's thankfully short, and though it doesn't go as smoothly as it could, he's not directly involved in anything that goes wrong, for once.

He stops by Kallus when he gets back, meaning for it only to be brief (well, maybe not entirely meaning for it to be that way, but that's what he tells himself) but he ends up staying into the early hours of the night again. Kallus says he should probably go, this time- "I don't want to keep you," he says, and Zeb has to bite back a response that could be misinterpreted before he goes, back to his cabin, suddenly uncomfortably far from where he wants it to be.

Ezra smirks when he gets in, but the kid knows better by now than to annoy Zeb when he's tired. Zeb refuses to think about what Ezra (can Jedi detect emotions? He's not sure) is saying by that smirk, and within moments, he's asleep face-down on his bunk.

Zeb spends most of the next day running diagnostics on the Ghost and arguing with Chopper. He grabs his bo-rifle at one point to threaten the droid with, and he puts it back on his back without even thinking, going about the rest of the day barely noticing it's there. He's had it for so long, it just feels like an extension of his own body- the only other thing that's seen Lasan with him and lived to tell the tale.

So, when he goes to visit Kallus in what is soon becoming routine, he doesn't know why Kallus frowns at him as he goes into the room.

He asks Kallus what's up.

"You've got your bo-rifle," he says.

"Oh." Zeb takes it off his back. "I, uh... must've put it there earlier. I'm not here to arrest you."  He shuffles awkwardly. "Or something."

Kallus nods. He looks like he's thinking. "May I see it?"

"Hm?" Zeb holds it properly. "Sure."

Kallus takes it and looks it over, inspecting it. He squints at some of it, confused.

"It's different to yours," says Zeb.

"Aren't they the same model?"

"Yours is modified. Twice, probably, because you-" he catches himself- "because it was given to you. The, uh," he points at a part and says a word in Lasat, "is different on mine, 'cause my shoulders are stronger. What's that in Basic, anyway?" 

"The stock. And since when were your shoulders stronger?"

Zeb snorts and swats at him. "Since Lasat biology. There's a reason you've never bested me."

"And there's a reason  _ you've _ never bested  _ me _ ," replies Kallus.

Zeb laughs. "What, 'cause you've got inquisitors to back you up?"

"Had," says Kallus. "Either that, or-" He won't finish that sentence, Zeb knows- actually  _ talking _ about the ion disruptors, calling them by name, is still too much for either of them.

Kallus sighs and hands back the bo-rifle. "I apologise."

"It's fine." Zeb puts the weapon on his back, and goes towards the bed, taking his now-familiar seat on it. "You been given any more missions yet?"

Kallus shakes his head and joins him. "They don't want to make it too obvious I'm on their side. Sato said ideally, the Empire needs to think I'm dead. It's safer for everyone that way. I'm still not convinced they do, but..." he shrugs. "I don't make the decisions around here."

"You should join us on a supply run," says Zeb. He nudges him in the side. "Stop you getting bored."

Kallus smiles tiredly at him. "Like your crew would let that happen."

"Hey, they can't hate you that much. They got you those meds. And besides, it'd only be a day or so at most." He snorts. "Even Ezra can put up with that."

Kallus shrugs, trying to seem unbothered, but his smile's more genuine. "I'll go, if they agree to it."

Zeb chuckles. "See, you're getting there."

Kallus laughs weakly. The two of them are quiet for a while, until Kallus speaks. "When all this is over- what will you do?"

Zeb shrugs. "Hadn't really thought that far." He looks over at Kallus. "I'm pretty sure there'll always be Empire supporters and beings who want to hurt other beings. I'll keep fighting them, I guess." He rests his hand on the bed, between himself and Kallus. "What about you?"

Kallus frowns in thought. "I'm not sure I'll make it that long," he says, quietly.

Zeb shoots him a glare, and he adds, "But if- if I do- I don't know. Probably somewhere quiet. I'm not much use now, because of my leg, and once the war's over, even having been in the ISB won't help me."

"Anywhere quiet in particular?"

Kallus smiles at him. "No. Sun- or suns, too. Water, ideally. Lakes, or oceans, maybe."

Zeb snorts. "I was gonna suggest this place until you mentioned the water."

Kallus looks at him again, a sudden sadness on his face. He looks down again, lifts up his hand, and places it, with an uncharacteristic shyness, on top of Zeb's, his fingers just slightly pressing into the gaps. They're hardly holding hands, but it's close- too close for it to be anything but deliberate.

Just before Zeb's about to turn his hand around so he can reciprocate, Kallus snatches his hand away, back to his awkward, slightly-detached self he's been ever since he came to the base. "Anyway, I don't want to keep you."

Zeb's not sure how to ask if they can go back to how they were a few seconds ago (after all, "Do you mind rewinding back a moment so I can hold your hand and maybe see you genuinely smile, because all you do at the moment is look sad?" isn't exactly polite) so he doesn't, instead nodding, saying "I'll ask about that supply run," and walking out the door.

He asks Hera about it. She's enthusiastic, with Kanan and Ezra less so, and Sabine somewhere in the middle. Sato accepts, provided he doesn't show his face, and so a few days and visits later, Kallus is marched onto the Ghost, accompanied by a guard who leaves him at the entrance. He's wearing a long, cloak-like thing with a hood, but the hood's down for now.

Ezra frowns when he arrives. "He couldn't even come here by himself. Why are we taking  _ him _ with us?"

Kallus glares at him. "I'm still  _ technically _ a prisoner. I just happen to be one that's trusted." He looks around, eyes scanning the crew. "Shall we go?"

Hera nods. "Yes, let's." She stops staring at Kallus. "Sabine, you're with me. Ezra, keep an eye on the cargo. Zeb, you're with Kallus."

Ezra pouts. "I've got a lightsaber to defend myself. Why aren't I in charge of the prisoner?"

"Because we can't have you running the best source of Imperial intelligence we have right now through with your saber, that's why," replies Kanan, drawing him away and into the ship.

Zeb looks over to Kallus. "Seems like we're together."

"It appears so," replies Kallus, walking into the ship. "I'm afraid you'll have to lead the way."

Zeb grins at him.

They spend the journey in the main room, crouched around the table. Zeb tells him where they're going, what he'll be expected to do, and so on, but Kallus looks slightly out of it.

"You okay?"

"Hm?" Kallus looks more alert, momentarily. "Yes."

Zeb squeezes his shoulder. "You'll be alright." He grins. "To be honest, we didn't need much help on this mission. Just didn't want to see you cooped up in your room-"  _ cell, _ he thinks,  _ they're still keeping him in a cell, _ and the thought makes Zeb feel slightly sick- "any longer." He snorts. "'Course, Hera needed a reason, and Sato wasn't going to let you go if we didn't need you."

Kallus laughs tensely. "Yes, well..." He looks at Zeb. "I'm grateful."

"So am I," says Zeb, and as he says it, he realises it's true, and he's not even sure why that's the case, but he is.

He promises himself to think about it later. Kallus is giving him a strange look, but Hera shouts from the cockpit that they've arrived, and he can feel the slight jolt as they come out of hyperspace.

He stands up. "Come on," he says, offering Kallus his hand.

Kallus takes it, but only for as long as it takes to stand up, and he just follows behind Zeb afterwards, into the cargo hold, grabbing a food crate, and trailing behind him as they push the crates to the settlement.

The place they've stopped is small and remote, but Zeb knows there are bigger cities on the planet- they just haven't stopped there for fear the Empire'll show up. Besides, these people can get the food to the cities more subtly than they can, and it's never bad being somewhere quiet for a change.

They're all greeted with smiles and grins, Kallus quiet under his robe. They open up a few of the crates, letting people grab what they need, and hand over the rest to their contact. 

Hera gives him a smile as the last crate gets put in place. "That's us done. I'll just go in and check everything's okay with our contact." She peers past him, nodding in the direction of the wide, open fields surrounding the town. "Go check on Kallus. I don't want him wandering off."

Zeb nods, and heads over to him. He's a little distance away from the houses, and though his hood's still up, he's staring up at the sky.

As Zeb joins him, he turns to look. "Oh. Are we leaving?"

"Nah, not for a while." Zeb smirks. "What'cha looking at?"

"The, uh, the sky," says Kallus, a little sheepishly. "I haven't seen a blue one in a while."

Zeb snorts. "Yeah, Atollon tends to look a lot more yellow."

Kallus looks like he's thinking about something when he says that, but the moment's brief. "Yes, well..." He cocks his head. "I suppose it's been years- decades, really- since I've just been able to look at things and not have to  _ do _ anything." He pauses. "It's nice."

Zeb pats his shoulder. "Journey worth it, then?"

Kallus looks away from the sky and at him. "Very much so." 

Sabine shouts for them to come over, and they both go back to the town, Ezra waving goodbye to a couple of kids before they all head into the Ghost.

Hera sets them off, and soon, they're on the same hyperspace route they set off on. "Well," she says, "might as well get some work done while we're here. Zeb, Ezra, Chopper, go run a diagnostic on the ship. Anything that crops up, tell me."

"What about Kallus?" asks Ezra.

"He'll stay up here with me," she says, giving them all a look that says her word is final.

Zeb leads the way, Ezra complaining all the way down to the cargo hold where Chopper plugs in and starts scanning, the results showing up on the little screen above. Zeb peers at it, trying to figure out if there's anything wrong, but there doesn't seem to be.

After a while, Sabine comes up to them. "Hey, Hera told me to take over. She wants you in the cockpit. Oh, and," she says, handing him a spray can, "can you put this back in my room for me on your way there? Thanks," and with that, she nudges him out of the way and looks at the screen instead.

Zeb frowns, but doesn't question it out loud. Sabine knows what she's doing, anyway- it doesn't matter which one of them's there. He makes his way to the cockpit, stopping momentarily to enter Sabine's room, figure out where she puts her paint cans (in a box on the top bunk, apparently- Zeb wonders if they ever fall out when the ship goes through turbulence) and drop them there.

Hera's not actually there. The only being in the room is Kallus, curled up in one of the seats and staring out at hyperspace, the light beams flickering across his skin.

He turns to look, and, in a sudden moment of what looks like peace, smiles at Zeb. "Hello."

Zeb grins back. "Hey." He sits down in another chair, staring out the window, but looking at Kallus out of the corner of his eye. 

They're both quiet, for a long while, Kallus lost in his own thoughts and Zeb enjoying the break.

Kallus finally talks, his voice soft and afraid, like that first night, but at the same time healthier, more well-rested. "When this is done- all of this- can we..." He stops. "Can we stay together?" He sighs and blinks, like he's forcing himself to stare ahead. "Whatever happens?"

Zeb stands up, walking to Kallus' seat, and puts his hand on Kallus' shoulder again. He's quiet for a long, tense moment. "Of course."

He can see Kallus' smile, illuminated by the blue light, and Kallus lets out a small, happy laugh before standing up, wrapping his arms around Zeb, and drawing him into a hug.

It would be cruel- not just to Kallus, but to himself- not to return the hug.

And then, in the ship he's called home for the past few years, with the man he hopes to call something (again, the words are coming out in Lasat and they don't make sense) for many years to come, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they're both getting better.

And maybe there's hope for them after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

He won't let himself look at Zeb.

The fight he's just left was long and hard, and he's glad to be rid of it. His life is in the hands of the rebellion now, and he at least trusts them to give him a kinder death than the Empire would.

But he won't look. He refuses to hurt Zeb- hurt any of them, he reminds himself, but it's Zeb he's thinking about- more than he already has. He's a prisoner, no different to any other, and he will not walk in to a base full of those whose families, friends, and colleagues he's killed with his head held high. He refuses to.

He soon finds out the rebellion is relatively low on prisoners- he's the only person in his cell block, though if there are others elsewhere, he doesn't know. He's marched to his room, walked into instead of shoved through the door, and left there to observe his surroundings.

He spots at least three flaws in the construction which he could exploit to get out, but he doesn't use them. He has nowhere to go, no plan, and more importantly, no desire to leave.

This is what he deserves.

The first nightmare surprises him more than anything, possibly because it's so bad. He's spent the past few weeks thinking his life is a nightmare and that it can't possibly get worse. He expects it to be only as bad as his life at the moment.

He's wrong. It's worse.

He smells Onderon before he sees it, the smoke fogging his brain, the unmistakable smell of burning flesh somehow everywhere around him, inside him, suddenly inescapable.

Then he sees it. There's fire- there wasn't fire before he blacked out- and someone's lying, limp, next to him, and all he can do is lay there, frozen, as the smoke creeps through his nostrils, the blood pooling around him- he doesn't know if it's his or someone else's, and he's not sure which is worse- the flames licking the streets around him, and the screams burning themselves into his mind.

He thinks he's crying, but the dampness on his face could just be more blood.

Then, there he comes. The Lasat. 

He can't see him properly- he never does in these dreams. He's a shadow, a monster, a mass of claws and teeth and murder, death in its path, screams in its wake, hate in its eyes.

That's the only part Kallus  _ can _ see. The eyes, yellowed in the light of the flames, staring straight at him.

He wakes up with a jolt, shivering.

He doesn't move until he hears the guard making noise outside, and even then, his only movement is to lie back down and pull the covers over himself, trying desperately to stop shaking.

The nightmares keep coming the next night, and the next, and the next, and at some point he stops counting because he's tired and scared and all of his thoughts either want to kill him or terrify him. He can't cope with this, he knows that, but he doesn't mention it in the sparse opportunities he has. He can barely talk, honestly- a mixture of the sleep and the guilt, and his mind feels unpleasantly muddled.

He can hear the guard switching duty. That means it's night, and so he gets into bed, ready for another night of fitful, restless sleep.

He's unconscious quickly, but it's hardly sleep- rest for his body more than his mind, and even his body's not getting much.

The eyes are back again. He can feel himself waking up, his eyes opening, but at the same time he's still back on Onderon, eyes still boring into him, flames still licking into the landscape around him-

"Kallus?"

The nightmare's still in his mind, but he's not there anymore. There's someone else in the room, a different pair of eyes staring at him, a huge hand on his shoulder instead of a flame.

"Z-Zeb?"

Because  _ of course _ he's there, that   _ infuriating _ fucking Lasat, looking at him with something like  _ concern _ in his eyes when Kallus knows Zeb should have shot him back in that cave, knows Zeb should be refusing to look at him at all, knows he's horrible and evil and all the rest of it, and Zeb being here, being  _ worried _ , makes it worse, and-

Zeb nods. "Yeah, it's me."

Well, if Zeb won't let him wallow in self-hatred, he's going to do it himself. He stares down at the sheets, the image of his nightmare still burned into the back of his eyes, showing itself each time he blinks.

"Are you alright?" Zeb says. 

Maker, Kallus thinks, why's  _ he _ asking? He doesn't need to ask. He's not supposed to- to be like this.

"Yes," he says, "yes, I'm fine." He's not sure how convincing that sounds, but it can't be any worse than anything else he's said over the past few days.

"You don't sound fine."

Not very convincing, then. Still, he can't let Zeb stay here. He won't.

"I'll get over it," he says, for himself as much as Zeb. "It was- it was just a nightmare."  _ Just a nightmare. _ "You go back to... whatever it is you're doing."

"Guard duty," says Zeb. He looks conflicted. Kallus wishes he didn't.

"Right." Kallus lies down, vainly trying to look like he's about to sleep. "That."

Zeb leaves, but he doesn't look any less concerned. Kallus stares up at the ceiling for the rest of the night, more numb than anything else.

There's a few more nights of sleeplessness- the days all blur into each other, and he says little to the people who come to interrogate him- before Zeb returns. He can faintly hear the changeover down the corridor, but he doesn't pay it any attention, lost in thought at his desk.

The knock on his cell startles him. Usually they just let themselves in.

He turns to look. "Zeb?"

_ Of course _ , it'd be him. Again.

Zeb gets something out of his pocket, and holds them out to him. Kallus goes to get them, and he takes the packet and turns it over.

_ Triazolam _ , the label reads. The name triggers something in him- memories of reading the name each night, stamped onto Imperial-standard packets, black type against shiny foil.

He also remembers just leaving them on the side, stuffed into a drawer in his old room after realising they didn't keep the nightmares away.

"Oh," he says.

"What?" He really wishes Zeb would stop saying things like he's concerned.

"These..." he gestures to the packet, "They don't work. For the... waking up. That you saw." He can't bring himself to say  _ nightmare  _ out loud- it still sounds too vulnerable, too personal to even think about saying in the base of those who were once his enemies.

_ Still are my enemies, _ he corrects himself.  _ That's why I'm in prison. _

"Oh. Sorry," says Zeb, and Kallus wants to tell him not to apologise, that he should be ignoring him at best, but he bites his lip and forces himself to be quiet. Zeb doesn't need to hear it. "I guess they can't hurt, though."

"Hm." He puts them on the desk, grateful not to have to make eye contact with Zeb anymore. "Thank you, anyway." He  _ is _ thankful, he realises. For once, someone's caring about him, trying to make him feel better, and he feels a sudden twinge of guilt at his earlier anger.

It doesn't change his feeling that Zeb really shouldn't be doing this.

"No problem. Night," says Zeb, giving him a nod and leaving the room.

"Goodnight," he replies.

And even as he's glad Zeb's gone, now outside where he no longer has to deal with him, there's another part of him that wishes Zeb had stayed.

He tells himself to stop being irrational- there was no reason for him to stay, after all- and gets into bed, swallowing a pill, though he knows it won't help.

The meteorite's hidden under his pillow. He's not comfortable with having it out so people can see it when they come to interrogate him, but he still wants (needs, he thinks, he  _ needs _ it around, and he feels sick at his dependence) it around.

He picks it up and cradles it to his chest, the rock spreading warmth and light, a beacon of hope in his own mind.

As he drifts off to sleep, his mind still jumbled and sleep-deprived, his thoughts drift to how he got the rock in the first place, of the kind, supportive look in Zeb's eyes earlier, and briefly, irrationally, of what it would be like to be lying next to Zeb instead of a hunk of glowing mineral.

He's too tired to either berate himself or dwell on the thought, and it's gone before he can commit it to memory.

It's Onderon again. He's further back than usual, with his patrol squad, marching through the streets before they all go to hell. It's worse like this, when he can see their faces, see them talking amongst each other, and he tries to warn them, but his lips refuse to move.

The blast hits him.  _ I was lucky- knocked out by the first blast _ , he remembers telling Zeb, and though that's true in real life, his dreams refuse to even grant him unconsciousness. He can't move, can't speak, can't see properly, but he's conscious, hyper-aware of what's happening around him. 

There's the second group down, then the third, then the telltale scream and gentle trickle of blood against his leg. He can sit up then- it's always then he can sit up- but the sight that greets him is different.

He's the one standing where the Lasat usually is, his own eyes yellowed by the light of the fire. There's an extra body added to the pile on the ground, huge and furred and  _ bleeding _ and his mind tells him it's Zeb, though he can't see.

Kallus stares at himself- his nightmare self- as he withdraws the ion disruptor he's holding, takes a final, harsh glare at the body beneath him, and looks up, straight into Kallus' eyes.

His eyes open after that.

He hears the knock on his cell, but doesn't acknowledge it- any noise could be real or imaginary, at that moment. On the other hand, the hand that shakes his shoulder is very much real.

"Hey. Wake up." The low, gruff voice is unmistakable, and Kallus wants to slap him, to tell him to get away before it's too late, before he-

He gasps, gulping in air as he fully realises he's not back on Onderon- or the strange version of it he's created in his own head- anymore. Zeb's staring down at him, concern still in his eyes.

He can't have that. "Ah. I- I apologi-"

"Don't." Zeb flicks on the light. "What's wrong?"

_ I had a nightmare where I saw myself killing you, _ he thinks,  _ and it was very nearly true. _ "It's really-"

"I'm not going anywhere," replies Zeb, and Kallus thinks  _ you should _ .

He pushes himself so he's sitting up. It hurts. His muscles are stiff, though whether that's from the nightmare, the fact he's just woken up, or the lack of sleep, he's not sure. Maybe, he thinks, if he just doesn't talk, Zeb will leave him alone and go somewhere safe. It's worked with everyone else.

Zeb stays put. He tries a different tactic.  "I don't want to talk about it."

Zeb rolls his eyes, obviously not listening, and goes to sit down on the bed. Even his sleep-addled brain can realise he'll probably sit on the meteorite, and that that is therefore a very bad idea. "Don't-"

It's too late. Zeb's already sat down, and on top of where the meteorite is. "What?"

Kallus snatches it from underneath him. "It's nothing."

Zeb grabs the end of the blankets, and Kallus lets out an embarrassing yelp, unwilling to show either the meteorite or his boxer-clad legs. Zeb may have saved his life, but he doesn't think showing your underwear to someone whose home planet you killed is good manners.

On the plus side, Zeb ignores his state of undress, and focuses on the meteorite instead. He quirks an eyebrow. "You kept that thing?"

The words  _ that thing _ send a chill through Kallus, and his reply is bitter and clipped. "Empirical ships aren't exactly toasty."  _ Neither is the inside of my own head, _ he adds, but only internally.

Zeb sits back down, frowning, looking like he's thinking hard. The image from the nightmare keeps coming back, and the bit of him that's not remembering the nightmare is screaming at him to get Zeb out of the room. He's quiet for a while, anyway, trying desperately to get himself under control so he doesn't just scream what he wants to say.

"So, are you just sitting there? I'm  _ fine _ ," he says, trying to convince himself as much as Zeb, "you don't have to be here."

"Waking up crying usually doesn't mean you're fine," replies Zeb. He sounds annoyed, and though that's good news for the part of Kallus that wants him to  _ get out _ , it hurts, in that visceral, needy part of him that just wants someone to stay.

"I wasn't crying, and even if I had been, I'm not now." Was he crying? He can't remember. He was crying in the dream, but he obviously wasn't doing the same things in both his dream and reality. His eyes feel itchy and raw, but that could just be from the lack of sleep.

He rolls over, turning away from Zeb. At least then he can't see.

"Not like it matters," he says, face burrowed into the pillow.

"What?"

"I  _ said _ , it's not as if it even matters, anyway. I'm being kept alive here until I reveal an Imperial secret- of which I don't know any, for your information, since they were hiding files from me before I left-" they were, and no-one on this godforsaken base believes him- "and once I do, I'll either be killed or sent on some suicide mission. Whether or not I'm sleeping properly is no-one's problem but my own, and I'm telling you I'm  _ fine _ ."

"You really think that?" He sounds incredulous, like he can't believe it. Kallus isn't sure why- he betrayed the Empire and hindered the rebellion. Why shouldn't they kill him?

He turns around to glare at Zeb. " _ You _ think your rebellion  _ won't _ kill me as soon as I'm no longer useful? As much as your little crew relies on  _ sentiment _ , the wider rebellion isn't quite so stupid. I'm alive because they still think I know something they don't. That's all."

"We're not going to kill you," says Zeb, softer than he has any right to be.

"I would, in your position,"  _ I would, even in my own position, _ he thinks. "I killed these people's families, friends, everyone. Just because I haven't murdered anyone in the last month, doesn't mean it never happened." He turns away again. He can't- he can't keep looking at him. He doesn't know how Zeb's still here. He wouldn't still be here. "You, worst of all. I don't know how you can stand to look at me."

"I told you, Lasan is  _ over _ -"

Kallus snaps upright.  _ How dare he?  _ he thinks.  _ How dare he be- be hopeful, and kind, and say that things are done once they're done, and that I won't get executed. How dare he even try to give me false hope? _

He looks Zeb straight in the eyes. "But it isn't really, is it? It's never over. None of it. Doesn't matter if it's Lasan or Geonosis or Lothal or Onderon-" the words tumble out of him before he can stop them, and by then it's too late, he's said too much, Zeb  _ knows _ -

"Onderon?"

Kallus curses.

"That's what the nightmares-"

"Shut up," spits Kallus. How can Zeb _ still  _ try to be understanding, still try to- 

He turns away and lies down. He can't look at him anymore. Not after that. "I shouldn't have- forget I said anything." He realises just how exhausted he is, how little energy he has left in him to argue. 

He pleads instead. " _ Please. _ "

Zeb's quiet, and for a long moment, Kallus thinks he's going to leave. 

"I wasn't always on the Ghost," Zeb says.

Kallus glares into his bed, too tired to protest.

"When- after Lasan, I had to get away. You know, to avoid..." he trails off, but Kallus's mind fills in the blank.  _ To avoid getting murdered by me. _ "Either way, I got away, somehow. Ended up in the Outer Rim somewhere, just wasting my time away, staying low, not really doing much."

Kallus tries to sigh, but it wants to come out more like a yawn. He settles for a huff instead.

"I didn't sleep much, then, but after a while Kanan and Hera picked me up, and I was lonely and I could bash through Imps faster than they could, so they kept me around." He takes a deep breath. "That's when Lasan kept- coming back."

_ Oh, _ thinks Kallus.  _ He-? _

"I'd wake up, sometimes. It was like coming round after everything had gone, except I wasn't really there, and it would last for days." Kallus shivers, the feeling all too familiar. "Either that, or someone would say something, or we'd pick up some cargo, and I'd just-" He pauses, and even without looking, Kallus can tell he's not enjoying this. "It would be Lasan all over again."

_ That's why- _

_ Oh. _

_ The same thing happened to him. That's why he's trying to help. _

It makes sense, logically, but Kallus can't quite process it. The very idea that someone else- let alone someone he has some form of history with- should have done this before, come through it, and become a better being than he's ever been, just seems too fantastical to actually make sense.

He stops himself.  _ Zeb never said they didn't still happen. Maybe you'll always be stuck with these. _

"...Still?"

"Hm?"

"Does it- does it still happen?"

Zeb chuckles. "No. Nothing like that. It got better. It  _ is _ better. 'Specially now," he adds, "since we found Lira San."

"Found what?"

"Lira San," he repeats. "It's where my people originally came from."

He's an ISB trained agent, taught to know the inner workings of the galaxy so he can exploit them to the Empire's advantage. He's never heard of Lira San. "And you've- been there?"

Zeb lies back against the wall. "For a bit, yeah."

Kallus takes the rock from where it's slipped by his ankles, and cradles it up to his chest again. "Tell me about it."

So Zeb does. He listens for the first few minutes, but after a while, his eyes get tired, and he realises just how soothing Zeb's voice is, how nice it is to have someone in the same room as him  _ not _ asking him about Imperial secrets, and he starts to fall into the most peaceful sleep he's had the entire time he's been in this cell.

When he wakes up, Zeb's gone. His side of the bed's still warm, though, and Kallus moves his feet under it, closing his eyes again. He doesn't have to get up for a while anyway.

Eventually, the warmth leaves, and he's left feeling guilty about what he said to Zeb the night before.

_ He was trying to help me, and I still managed to hurt him _ . He sighs and crawls out of bed.  _ How he managed to stay without punching me, I'll never know. _

He changes his underwear, throwing the old pair into the corner he's decided's for for dirty clothes, and slides into a new pair. The clothes the rebellion have given him are a mismatch, most erring on the side of too big, none matching, all old and well-loved. He feels ridiculous in them, but he doesn't really have a choice.

The officer they send every morning comes in once he's done getting dressed, rations in hand. She nods at Kallus. "You're looking better."

Kallus snorts. "I'm not  _ feeling _ better," he says, but as the words come out of his mouth, he realises they're not true- he does feel better, more well-rested, safer.

Maybe today he'll-

The officer watches him unpack his rations with disinterest. "Still staying silent, then?" she asks.

"Perhaps not." 

The officer quirks an eyebrow.

"I still don't know anything of importance to you."  _ Can't let them get their hopes up _ , he thinks. "But even if their plans have changed, the Empire's protocol won't."

The officer frowns. "We already have a copy of the Imperial protocol. That doesn't help."

"They don't always stick to the manual. You know this. If they were listening to those rules, they wouldn't attack unarmed ships, and you know full well they do that on a regular basis. No," he says, "I know the  _ real _ Imperial protocol. What they'll actually do." He leans forward. "I'm willing to help your rebellion stay one step ahead of the Empire. Is that clear?"

She nods. "Very. I'll discuss it with Sato," and with that, she's out of the room, and he's alone again.

Sato himself returns that afternoon, solemn but not angry. "We've accepted your offer," he says. "You will remain here until after your first mission. If we find you are to be trusted, you will be moved to a better room." 

Kallus nods. It makes sense, after all.

Sato looks at him pointedly. "We will come to collect you when the opportunity arises." He purses his lips into a frown. "We  _ trust _ you will not let us down."

"Understood."

Kallus watches them leave, stood proudly until the door is shut, and then he collapses on the bed, nervous and terrified and hopeful and sick all at once, unsure if he's made the right decision.

He doesn't have to wait long- they assign him to a small operation late that day. He's marched through the base, onto a ship, hands held in cuffs the entire time. There are two beings standing guard either side of him when he reaches the cockpit, and one of them briefly tells him the aim of the mission- to observe and record information on a nearby Imperial station. He's only there as backup, apparently- if they get spotted, he'll be expected to help.

Sato's there, waiting. He sees Kallus and gives the order to leave.

"Why are you here?" asks Kallus. "Isn't this a minor operation?"

"Indeed," he responds. "I'm here to make sure you don't make any rash decisions."

A while passes as they reach their destination, the little group in the cockpit silent, but with noise and discussion going on all around them.

They come out of hyperspace and the ship comes into view. Sato walks away, then, overseeing various stations as they record information. Kallus can tell the type of station, even from this distance- it's an old-ish model, similar to one he served on a while ago.

One of the techies curses. "Sir, they've spotted us!"

The groups spring into defensive action. Kallus turns away from staring at the station to catch Sato's eye. "I assume this is where I step in?"

"Not so fast-" says Sato, but Kallus is already speaking.

"If you're looking to attack, hit the hangar- central, relative to us." That's not actually what will hit the Empire the worst- he knows where the rooms are, can assume the cafeteria will be around there, and there'll be cadets, off-duty troopers and pilots there, mostly asleep. Hitting them would destroy their backup and morale, but his mind keeps feeding him images of Onderon again, of those two grunts killed by Tarkin, and he can't bring himself to say it. 

The hangar will hit them hard enough. It's hard to send out pilots to fight people when half your ships are destroyed. "On the other hand, if you just want to get away, I'd advise you go around the back and shoot at that side. I can't say where specifically, but they'll have data storage on that side. If you're lucky, you'll be able to hit some of it, and they won't be able to trace this ship, even without a jammer."

Sato nods. "Do as he says."

Gunners rush to their stations and start firing at the hangar as the pilot swoops down, beneath the belly of the ship, and then the gunners change their aim, firing at the other side of the ship, and Kallus feels a sense of pride at knowing the relatively innocent on the ship are probably safe.

It's the only decent thing he's done all week, really.

The ship sails into hyperspace, luckily evading the incoming ties, who are probably confused why this random, previously peaceful rebel ship has just attacked two different parts of their base.

The sigh of relief ripples through the ship, and Sato turns to him, briefly.

"Thank you. You'll be moved as soon as we return."

Kallus nods, lips set in a line.

He's quiet the rest of the way back, only speaking when he has to. He's made the right choice- he knows he has- but at the same time it suddenly seems final, like he can't go back to the way things were.

_ Now you want to go back?  _ he berates himself.  _ Back to being scared they'd execute you? Back to committing genocide? Back to the Empire? _

He doesn't. He knows he doesn't, he knows-

He doesn't really know, he realises, picking up the few belongings from his cell. He's just getting swept along, guided from place to place, trying vainly not to hurt anyone else in the process.

His new room's nicer- there's natural light in it, for one, and the bed's less worn down. He doesn't mind, really. It's not like the room was stopping him from sleeping. There are books, too- a rarity these days, and likely salvaged from a scrap heap on the Outer Rim somewhere, but they're good to pass the time with.

A few days pass uneventfully. Sato stops by with some plans they've drawn up to ask his opinion on them, and he suggests a few tweaks. Not much else happens, though they do offer to let him out of the room if he wants. He says no each time- there's little for him out there.

One day, the door opens, and he turns around, expecting Sato again.

It's not him.

"Zeb?" he asks, more surprise in his tone than is polite. Still, he can't help but wonder why he's back- after all, the last time they saw each other, he was screaming at him about killing half his planet.

"Hey." Zeb hands something over- another packet of pills. "They got you some new ones."

_...More sleeping pills? _

"Oh." The name on the label reads  _ Temazepam.  _ He hasn't heard of them before, but there's some fine print underneath that reads  _ helps you stay asleep _ .

_ These might actually work _ , he thinks.

"Thank you." He puts them next to his meteorite instead of on the desk, unsure of what to say next.

Zeb seems to have a similar problem, but he tries anyway. "How did your mission go?"

"As well as can be expected." He stops there. If he goes into more detail, he's in danger of getting flustered and emotional again. Zeb's had to deal with enough of that from him, and of everyone on this base, he doesn't deserve it.

"Sleeping better?"

A twinge goes through Kallus. He had to bring that up, didn't he? 

"Somewhat, yes." It's half true. He hasn't woken up making any noise in this room yet, so he thinks that's an improvement. The nightmares are still there, though- that one with Zeb's apparently decided to become a reoccurring dream- and it's not like he's actually sleeping any better.

Just sleeping more quietly, if anything.

"That usually means not at all." He's smirking, the bastard, and Kallus envies him for a moment, envies the fact he sleeps well enough to be funny, the fact that he's distanced enough from this that he doesn't feel terror every time they discuss it.

He hates himself as soon as he thinks it. He's apparently terrible enough to dislike the one being on this ship that seems to care about him.

_ Good job, me. _

He goes to sit on the bed, half because he's tired and half because he can't deal with being close to Zeb. "You haven't decided to kill me yet and I'm doing some good for the rebellion. That's enough for now."

Zeb joins him, apparently oblivious to the fact he's trying to give him some space. He's quiet for a second, taking a second to adjust to sitting down. The bed squeaks under his weight.

"So, Onderon?" he says.

Kallus bites the inside of his mouth. He had to-

_ It's fine, _ he assures himself.  _ He's been through- something like this. He doesn't hate you. Tell him. _

"Yes." He looks down at the floor. Eye contact feels like too much. "I had... something like this, just after it happened, but nothing as bad as these... things."  _ Nightmares, _ he tells himself, and he's not even sure why he won't say it out loud. His throat clenches up when he tries to.

Zeb puts a hand on his shoulder, softly and slowly, and Kallus tenses up, irrationally terrified of something he can't put a name on.

"It'll get better," Zeb says, and in that second where he's actually saying the words, Kallus feels as if they  _ must _ be true, but as soon as the phrase ends, he's back to feeling cold and hopeless and  _ quite enjoying Zeb's hand there actually- _

He tries not to lean in, but he might have already done so without noticing. "Thank you," he says, knowing it's not enough, never will be, never was-

He coughs, part to try and clear his thoughts and part because his throat still feels strange from where he was trying to speak earlier. In a sudden moment of irrationality, he says, "Can you- are you staying again? Tonight?"

Zeb frowns, and he feels awful for even suggesting it, pulling away from Zeb's hand and curling up slightly, but it turns out to be for nothing, because Zeb just says "Sure," and asks him at what point he fell asleep when he was talking about Lira San.

It's wonderful. The weight's off his shoulders, just for a while, slouched next to Zeb listening to him talk about training mishaps. He laughs, at one point, and though it sounds tense and nervous to his ears, he stutters out that a similar thing happened when he was training, and Zeb looks at him like he wants him to keep talking.

So, in return, he tells Zeb, even though his voice is less sure of itself than he wants it to be, and he keeps having to backtrack where stories get mixed up, and so he ends up telling Zeb about several things, about his training, about being a child, about Coruscant.

Thoughts of the place bring him down from his high. "I can't go back now," he says, only realising it as he speaks it. "It's likely all different, anyway. I doubt my parents would be glad to see me, either." After all, he's sitting in a bed essentially cuddling up to a Lasat. Two Imperial loyalists aren't exactly going to be thrilled about that.

"Can't?"

Kallus laughs.  _ Does he not realise? _ "I'm a wanted man," he points out. A sudden thought hits him. "I'd probably die under the same skies I trained under." He snorts, trying vainly to keep the conversation light. "Wouldn't that be poetic?"

"Once this war's over, you can go back."

" _ If _ you win." He's still not enthusiastic about the rebellion's chances. He only joined them because it seemed like the right thing to do, and they'd kill him more nicely than the Empire.

_ Well, not only. _ He squashes the thought.

"Still think we won't?" He's glad for Zeb's relentless optimism, but it doesn't seem realistic here.

"I still  _ know _ you're smaller than the Empire, and if anywhere is going to rebel, it won't be Coruscant."  _ Especially not my parents, _ he thinks. He sighs, wondering what they'd look like now. His memories of them are blurry, considering the last conversation he had with them, he was ten, and he's now in his forties. "Still, can't stop me from wishing it wasn't that way."

Zeb's silent, and Kallus feels bad for having hurt the conversation. Maybe he should try and share some of Zeb's optimism, at least out loud, even if he doesn't really believe it.

At least then Zeb'll start talking again.

"When all this is over, we'll go back to Coruscant," he tries.

"We?" Zeb asks, and Kallus realises he's been picturing the two of them there without even noticing.

"We'll go together. I'll show you that park I told you about." He's already seeing them there. "We'll get game fowl. Have you had it before?" He looks over at Zeb, who shakes his head. "My mother used to make it when I was very small. They just gave us rations at the Academy, so I haven't had it for years." The thought makes his mouth water and his chest hurt, just the idea of being back somewhere he supposes is home, of being with someone he- being with Zeb. 

He realises he should probably finish that thought out loud. "It's nice."

"Okay," says Zeb. "I'll go with you. To Coruscant."

Kallus smiles, relieved, hopeful, and suddenly a different kind of exhausted, the kind that can actually be solved with sleep.

"Tired?" asks Zeb, and for once, he's not even bothered about the fact he's concerned.

"More than I should be." he replies, honestly.

Zeb pats his shoulder, and a little part of him wishes it had stayed there longer. "Get some sleep," he says, and Kallus shuts his eyes, peaceful for a while.

He can feel the bed shift as Zeb gets up. "Are you going?"

"Do you want me to?"

He's in that sort of state where he can't help but be truthful. "Not especially."

"Then no, I'm not." A little jolt of... something goes though him at the words. Zeb grabs the blanket and puts it over him. "Budge up."

Kallus shifts, unsure of how much he needs to move. It's enough for Zeb, apparently, since he climbs into bed, covering them both in blanket and curling up beside him. Kallus shifts closer, too tired to be shy, and puts his head on Zeb's shoulder. He's warm and steady and safe, and right now, that's all he could want in the universe.

And that night, as he drifts into sleep, he's dreamless.

Zeb's gone again in the morning, but he's well-rested, and the good mood from the night before's carried over. He's sleepy, mostly, but it's the good kind- waking up naturally kind of sleepy, instead of dragging your feet around and sleeping at your desk kind of sleepy.

The good mood leaves him slowly throughout the day, but it never gets as bad as it usually is, and he's chirpier than usual during his talk with Sato.

Zeb stops by again, later- he hopes these visits are becoming regular- but he feels bad for making Zeb stay last night. They talk again, until it's dark outside, but Kallus manages to keep his eyes open, tells Zeb he doesn't want to keep him, and watches him go.

And if he feels a slight sense of longing as he watches him walk out the door, that's his problem.

The next day doesn't go as well. That night brings more nightmares, though he wakes up later than usual, so he ends up getting more sleep. He's jittery and nervous the next day, everything reminding him of the dream, everything terrifying.

It doesn't help that Zeb walks in that night with his bo-rifle. It's strange, come to think of it, how he hasn't had it the last few times they'd met, but the fact it's there sends fear through him. The only people he's seen here carrying weapons openly are the guards who march him from place to place. He doesn't like the implications.

Zeb must've noticed his expression. "What is it?"

"You've got your bo-rifle."  _ It's mostly guards who come here with weapons, _ he thinks about adding, but doesn't.

"Oh." Zeb's caught on to what he's thinking. He takes it off his back. "I, uh... must've put it there earlier. I'm not here to arrest you. Or something."

He's relieved, though he was sure, rationally, they wouldn't have sent him.

He can see the weapon better over here, and now the bulk of the fear is gone, he's simply intrigued. It looks different to his, though he's sure they're the same model, and even with the modifications he's made, it still confuses him. "May I see it?"

"Hm?" Zeb hands it over. "Sure."

Kallus peers at it. Yep, definitely different. The build seems different to his, but he can't quite put his finger on where in particular.

Zeb steps in. "It's different to yours."

"Aren't they the same model?" 

"Yours is modified. Twice, probably, because you-" he pauses for a moment, and Kallus knows he was going to say  _ you stole it, _ and he feels ill- "because it was given to you. The, uh," Zeb says something in Lasat and Kallus tries to suppress the shiver that runs through him, "is different on mine, 'cause my shoulders are stronger. What's that in Basic, anyway?" 

"The stock. And since when were your shoulders stronger?" He's bested Zeb before, and he would have won properly ( _ killed him killed him killed him _ ) if it hadn't have been for Bridger. He feels sick again.

Zeb snorts and swats at him. "Since Lasat biology. There's a reason you've never bested me."

"And there's a reason  _ you've _ never bested  _ me _ ," he replies.

_ And what reason is that? _ provides his brain.  _ Genocide of his entire planet? Illegal weaponry? Emotional trauma? Take your pick. _

Zeb's laugh is lighter than it has any reason to be. He doesn't choose one of Kallus's reasons, thankfully. "What, 'cause you've got inquisitors to back you up?"

"Had," says Kallus. It's in the past now, he tells himself, though it really isn't, not in anyone's mind. "Either that, or-"

_ Take your pick, _ he thinks again.

Maker, he does really manage to bring the conversation down. "I apologise," he says, handing back the bo-rifle.

"It's fine." Zeb puts it back onto his back, and goes to sit on the bed. That probably means they're okay, then. "You been given any more missions yet?"

Kallus sits beside him, further away than he'd like to be. "They don't want to make it too obvious I'm on their side. Sato said ideally, the Empire needs to think I'm dead. It's safer for everyone that way."  _ Safer if it was true _ , he thinks. "I'm still not convinced they do, but..."  _ But the Empire knows better. They knew I was leaving, they knew- _ "I don't make the decisions around here."

"You should join us on a supply run," says Zeb, apparently oblivious to what he was thinking. Zeb nudges him, casual and friendly. "Stop you getting bored."

Kallus smiles. The man really doesn't know when to give up, does he? "Like your crew would let that happen."

"Hey, they can't hate you that much. They got you those meds." Kallus hadn't considered it before, but it makes sense. Someone else was probably involved in finding him medication.

He just hadn't expected it to be the crew of the ship he's been chasing for the past few years. 

"And besides," continues Zeb, "it'd only be a day or so at most." He snorts. "Even Ezra can put up with that."

It does sound nice, he thinks, if only because he'll be somewhere with someone who likes him (or, at least, is willing to pretend he likes him) that isn't this room. A  _ planet _ , he realises, maybe one the Empire hasn't completely taken over yet, one with trees, and rivers, and-

Instead of talking about trees, he just says "I'll go, if they agree to it," trying to hide his sudden enthusiasm.

Zeb chuckles, the sound low and comforting. "See, you're getting there."

He laughs back, but it's half-hearted. The words mean more to him than Zeb meant them to, he knows.

_ Getting better? _ The words take a second to make sense of themselves.

Sure, he sleeps better, because his bed is warm and he's doing more and he has medication that  _ actually works _ , and he doesn't think quite so much about the rebellion killing him, but isn't that just because he's used to the idea? And  _ should _ he really be doing any of that in the first place, because in case he's forgotten, he's not exactly the poster boy for either side of the war right  now.

_ Mass murders don't tend to get that privilege _ , he tells himself.

The days have been going by, though, and he supposes he must have been changing, to some degree. Whether or not it's  _ better _ isn't his call to make.

His brain goes numb, firing too many ideas and pieces of information out at him for him to process them all.

After a moment, he comes out with "When all this is over- what will you do?"

_...Where did that come from _ ? he wonders, though he supposed it was from thinking about the future. Or something.

He finds himself making less and less sense these days.

"Hadn't really thought that far. I'm pretty sure there'll always be Empire supporters and beings who want to hurt other beings. I'll keep fighting them, I guess." 

_ Ever the warrior. _

Zeb stretches out, more endearing than it has any right to be, and rests his hand on the bed, between himself and Kallus. "What about you?"

_ Oh, I'll be dead, _ he thinks immediately. He rewords it for Zeb. "I'm not sure I'll make it that long."

Zeb glares at him. He rushes to come up with something. "But if- if I do- I don't know."

He calls on his good dreams, the ones that don't happen much, but that are always pretty and peaceful- always the park he played in as a child. "Probably somewhere quiet. I'm not much use now, because of my leg, and once the war's over, even having been in the ISB won't help me." It doesn't really help him now. It'll be worse when this is all said and done.

"Anywhere quiet in particular?"

"No." Kallus smiles. There, it's sunny, and there's the sound of water in the distance. "Sun- or suns, too. Water, ideally. Lakes, or oceans, maybe."  _ You'd be there,  _ he adds in his head,  _ and you'd grin and crack a stupid joke and I'd laugh, and we wouldn't have to be scared anymore, and then you'd cup my jaw and- _

He stops himself there.

"I was gonna suggest this place until you mentioned the water." says Zeb, and Kallus decides that maybe the water isn't the important part, it's the bit he didn't say out loud, the part that scares and thrills him in equal measure, and he's sad for a moment that he didn't have the guts to say it out loud.

Zeb's hand is still there between them, and he wonders, fleetingly, if he'd be allowed to hold his hand and just feel  _ close _ and  _ loved _ by someone else, just for a second, and before he can remind himself not to, he's moving his hand, placing it on top, pressing his fingers softly into the gaps, his heart racing.

Zeb stays still, and Kallus snatches his hand away before he can be disappointed, before Zeb can say no, and mutters his stock please-go-away-politely phrase of "Anyway, I don't want to keep you."

He leaves quickly, only stopping to say he'll ask about the supply run, and Kallus is as disappointed as he is hopeful.

They accept, apparently- someone comes to deliver him the news and give him what he'll be wearing out of the base. The garment's long and hooded, hiding almost all of him, and he has to crane his head to see out of it.

He leaves it down as the guards walk him to the ship. He doesn't need it now, anyway.

Bridger gives him a dirty look. "He couldn't even come here by himself. Why are we taking  _ him _ with us?"

Kallus sighs.  _ Good to know where I stand, I suppose.  _ "I'm still  _ technically _ a prisoner. I just happen to be one that's trusted." 

He looks around at the rest of the crew. Bridger's still glowering at him, the Mandalorian's giving him a similar glare, the Twi'lek seems unimpressed at best, and the Jedi's expression is unreadable behind his mask. Only Zeb looks pleased to see him, and even then, he's not sure- he seems more comfortable with the situation, at least. 

"Shall we go?" he asks.

The Twi'lek-  _ Hera, Kallus, call them by their names, _ nods. "Yes, let's. Sabine, you're with me. Ezra, keep an eye on the cargo. Zeb, you're with Kallus."

The kid scowls. "I've got a lightsaber to defend myself. Why aren't I in charge of the prisoner?"

_ Because I've faced up against you before and lived to tell the tale, _ he wants to say.  _ I'm a dangerous war criminal. _

As he thinks it, he realises just how dangerous he is to this particular band of rebels, just how hard he's made life for them in that past, how strange it is that he's standing there, being allowed onto their ship.

He remembers smiling as he thought they would finally die. 

They stare back at him now, defiantly alive.

The Jedi replies to the kid, but he's not paying attention, and the small crew disperses.

"Seems like we're together," says Zeb, and the implication of the word  _ together _ makes him feel something he's not completely comfortable with. 

"It appears so," he replies. "I'm afraid you'll have to lead the way."

Zeb grins, and the feeling's back again, and he just hopes he can walk to wherever he's spending the journey without making a fool of himself.

They sit around a table and Zeb tells him what he'll be doing and where they're going. He drifts off fairly soon, all too happy to just sit close to Zeb and listen to his voice, low, gruff words blocking out the ones in his own head.

"You okay?"

"Hm?" He curses internally. Should he have tried to pay more attention? "Yes."

Zeb grabs his shoulder again ( _ he seems to like doing that _ , he thinks, filing it away in his head) and, kinder than he has any right to be, says "You'll be alright. To be honest, we didn't need much help on this mission. Just didn't want to see you cooped up in your room any longer." Kallus is strangely touched. Zeb lets out a snort and continues. "'Course, Hera needed a reason, and Sato wasn't going to let you go if we didn't need you."

_ You don't. _

He covers the thought with a laugh. "Yes, well..." He looks up at Zeb, hoping his expression doesn't give too much away. "I'm grateful."  _ And perplexed, _ he adds,  _ as to why you'd let me within ten metres of you. _

"So am I," says Zeb, which just confuses him even more. What, grateful that he's tagging along and slowing them down? Grateful that he's draining the rebellion's resources? Grateful for berating him and hurting him and generally being awful and-

_ He knows what it's like _ , he tries to tell himself, but he can't convince himself it's true. Zeb never committed any crimes as big as he did. He was never in the wrong.

There's a jolt out of hyperspace. Zeb stands and offers him his hand. "Come on."

Kallus takes it, amazed for a moment at how small his own hands look, but they let go quickly.

They've landed in a field somewhere, far from the Imperial base of operations on this planet, but there's a smallish town in the distance. They push some crates- food, mostly- out of the ship and into the town.

Their contact thanks them, and the people they encounter seem happy to see them. Considering it's a food delivery, Kallus can guess why- stopping planets from accessing food is a fairly common tactic, but one that results in a hungry populace. This might be their only source of food for a while.

He opens up another crate, crouching down to place the lid beneath it. As he does so, a small child, her hair up in little pigtails, ends up at eye level with him. She doesn't look entirely human, he realises.

She beams, looking into his eyes. "Hey, mister. Are you helping get us food?"

Kallus nods. "Yes."

"That's good, 'cause we don't have a lot of food." She looks up at what the people around her are getting. "Can I have a meilooran, mister?"

"Okay." He stands up and gets her one from the crate. "Here."

She grins. "Thank you!" she says, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing a little too tight to be comfortable. She runs off and scatters into the crowd, disappearing before he can say goodbye.

He mutters to no-one in particular that he needs a break and steps through the crowd, back towards the Ghost, somewhere with less noise and fewer people and more sky.

He stares up. It's an endless haze of blue as far as he can see, beautiful and idyllic.

He doesn't deserve it.

None of it. Not the sky, not the smiles, not children thanking him and acting like he probably hasn't caused the state on this planet- at least indirectly- not civility and freedom and  _ Zeb _ -

It  _ always comes back to him, _ and he doesn't know why.

And he's here again, walking up behind Kallus, and it always comes back to him-

"Are we leaving?" asks Kallus.

"Nah, not for a while. What'cha looking at?"

_ Nothing, I'm just thinking about you and other things. _ "The, uh, the sky," he says, since that's literally true. "I haven't seen a properly blue one in a while."

"Yeah, Atollon tends to look a lot more yellow."  _ Does it?  _ He's only been seeing it from his window.

"Yes, well..." He pauses to think. "I suppose it's been years- decades, really- since I've just been able to look at things and not have to  _ do _ anything." He takes the moment to take a deep breath in. "It's nice."

And it is, like this, just the two of them, without Kallus's thoughts showing up to bring reality back in and ruin the party. He lets himself imagine, now that's he's free too, that they're not on a run, that he's not a fugitive, that their home is back there, and there's plenty of food, and the little girl is  _ theirs _ , that they're  _ happy _ -

Zeb touches his shoulder again. The train of thought stops. "Journey worth it, then?"

"Very much so," replies Kallus, and he's happier than he should be.

The Mandalorian shouts at them to go back to the town, and they make their way there, saying their goodbyes before heading back into the Ghost. Zeb gets told to run some diagnostic checks, so Kallus is up in the cockpit with Hera. He thinks the name again, to remind himself.  _ Hera _ .

They take off in silence, nothing apart from the roar of the engines and the whirr of the machine working all around them. They're well out on their journey before Hera shifts into autopilot.

She speaks, then.

"Listen, Agent-"

The title stings. "I'm not an agent anymore."

"Fine. Listen,  _ Kallus _ . I'm not in charge of you, and from what I've heard, you're doing a lot of good." She turns to stare at him, the sort of look ready to tell truths from lies. "But I look after my crew, and as part of that, I am going to tell you right now- do  _ not _ hurt Zeb any more than you already have." She glares. "Or I will take matters into my own hands. Is that clear?"

Kallus shifts in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort. "I don't exactly have the power to hurt anyone right now."

"If you think that's true," she says, turning back to the controls, "then you're both being stupid." She looks studiously over the controls. "How you feel affects him, and what affects him, affects me. Remember that."

It doesn't quite make sense to him, but he stays quiet. 

The Mando girl's- Sabine, he reminds himself- voice comes through the commlink.

"Hera? Can you come to the cargo hold? We've got a... situation." A pause. "Don't bring Kallus."

Hera frowns. "What kind of situation are we talking about here?"

The girl's sigh comes out crackly through the comm. " _ Please _ , Hera?"

Hera sighs. "Fine. I'll be right there. She glares at Kallus. "Don't touch anything while I'm gone."

"Understood," says Kallus.

Hera leaves the room, and Kallus is alone in the cockpit, watching the blurry beans of hyperspace roll by.

It's pretty. It almost looks like water, if he unfocuses his eyes.

He curls up in his seat, seeing no reason to keep up appearances if no-one else is there. 

He keeps thinking about the sky, about Zeb, about  _ getting better _ , and they're all nice, warm things against the cold. He realises, with a jolt, that the fact he's thinking about them means he is getting better, is starting to heal, and that Zeb knew before he did, probably even before he even said those words-

_ he knows this he knows about getting better he knows you you affect him _

He hears footsteps walk into the room. Zeb's there.

_ Maker _ , Zeb's always known, from the first opportunity he gave him to. He'd be annoyed at how his vulnerabilities have been kind of exploited if he didn't have such an embarrassing crush on him.

"Hello," he says.

"Hey." Zeb says. They grin at each other, and it's weirdly intimate, just the two of them staring out into space.

Kallus wants- no  _ needs _ to say something, but he's unsure how to phrase.

He wants... He wants  _ this _ , but more. He's not expecting settled family, kids and a steady job (though he thinks about that for a moment and his heart leaps), but he still wants the two of them, sticking together, understanding each other, getting better.

"When this is done- all of this- can we..." He forces the question out. "Can we stay together?" He stares out the window, not ready to see Zeb's face. "Whatever happens?"

There's a long, terrifying pause where Zeb stands up and walks over to him, slow and deliberate. He touches Kallus's shoulder. "Of course."

Kallus smiles, then laughs, then wonders what his life has come to, then laughs some more. He shouldn't be so happy, but he somehow is, and he stands up and hugs Zeb, a tiny, joyful giggle escaping him.

A month ago, he was half sure Zeb would execute him. Now, he's more than half sure Zeb's saved him.

And maybe there's hope for them after all.


End file.
